


The Kid and Scars

by NevaRYadL



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevaRYadL/pseuds/NevaRYadL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>WARNING: Non-graphic smut, biting, snuggling, pillow talk, fluff</p><p>Yes... yes I just made fan fiction of a small fandom. Why? Because I want the porns and hardly anyone's making them. I hope with the new DLC and releasing SR4 on next gen consoles will get the fandom moving, and encourage some new people to come on in.</p><p>Anyway, Latino custom Boss and Johnny because.. Johnny. Hope you pups enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. You Went Far, Kid

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Non-graphic smut, biting, snuggling, pillow talk, fluff
> 
> Yes... yes I just made fan fiction of a small fandom. Why? Because I want the porns and hardly anyone's making them. I hope with the new DLC and releasing SR4 on next gen consoles will get the fandom moving, and encourage some new people to come on in.
> 
> Anyway, Latino custom Boss and Johnny because.. Johnny. Hope you pups enjoy!

He had seen the kid from the start. He was just sixteen then, at the very beginning. Full sixteen years... but he was just a kid. Some kid recovering from getting clipped by bullets and looking completely and utterly terrified at everything. He was just some Latinx kid with shaggy brown hair and different colored eyes with bandages on his arms and biting his lip as he avoided talking to anyone. Everyone thought he was a goddamn mute for weeks.

But something happened to the scared little kid. No one knew if it was the guns, the gang violence, the drinking or all the drugs he did. But that terrified look on his face crumbled like a shattered mask, and underneath was a young man with a wicked glint to his eye and a psychotic smile on his face. He stopped wearing t-shirts and blue jeans, started wearing tank tops and baggy and torn up jeans. Inked his dark skin until people joked that he had more ink than a library.

Boss went from a scared kid to the budding sociopath that he would come to know for years. The man that laughed as he shot people, as he set fire to something, as he drove all over the fucking road and made his passengers scream in terror. The one that buried a man alive for him, just so that they could hear him scream. The one that stuffed that bitch that killed Carlos into the back of her car and let her boyfriend kill her. The one that crashed a motherfucker on the highway and then shot his crippled body dead.

The man that survived a boat exploding underneath him. Man, he never thought that the kid would up that one. Fresh out of a prison medical cell and the kid looked more bloodthirsty than ever, that deranged and violence horny look in his different colored eyes just made all the more defined by his long ass nap. Sure, his scrawny ass had lost what little weight he could afford and then some, and he had tied all the hair he had been growing for several years into dreadlocks, but he knew his best friend anywhere and was all too eager to start ripping shit up with him again.

This was the man that he thought he threw his life away for, but got tortured for years instead for.

Yeah, that alien bastard tried to break him by rerunning Aisha’s death again, and again, and again. But after a few years, it just… did not bother him. He actually stopped feeling pain, and got bored with the torture. What that alien asshole got for making everything like an shitty 8-bit fighter game and forcing him to play the same damn thing over for years. He loved Aisha, mourned her passing like a good lover, but when it was just thrown into his face over and over and over again it just got stale and boring. Zinyak could see it too, and put a twist in the simulations.

Instead of running just to see Aisha’s head getting cut off, he was forced to relive a twist in his capture. Defeating everyone in the front of the plane, throwing Zinyak out a window only to hear over the intercoms how they had the Boss pinned down at the back of the plane. He raced back there as fast as he could, hands a blur as he killed without mercy. He would make it back to the back of the plane and see the look on the Boss' face as his chest was filled with enough lead to make his dick a pencil. When he would get down to the kid, he would end up holding onto the Boss as he gagged on his own blood, blood just pouring from his mouth and nose as tears streamed down his face. Shaundi would scream for them to move, to leave the boss behind but... he could not leave the kid while he was dying. Something about seeing the Boss go down like it provoked feelings that he had been ignoring for years and the simulation would always end with the Boss dying in his arms as the plane crashed and exploded in a horrific burst of heat and twisted metal. 

He had to relive it again, and again, and again and each time it just got worse and worse. The thought of failing his best friend and him dying such a shitty and painful death, in his arms none the less, he felt like he was losing Aisha all over again in such worse way. He was failing the Boss, he was failing the Saints, he was failing his friends, he was failing the person that he had gotten so attached too over the years and it just hit him in such terrible ways. A insurmountable number if times later and he felt his eyes get wet behind his sunglasses. Not quite tears but definitely something that told him that the simulation was finally getting to him. He was failing everything he cherished and some shitty bastard was just living it up as it watched him writhe and struggle.

Zinyak, that slimy thing, he pulverized his digital copy for a few rounds. Heinously beating it until it was gooey nothing. He railed, he cussed, he screamed, he threatened, he just verbally abused that stupid fucking thing until he found the simulation switched back to Aisha's death. Oh, if he was being mean before, he was being damn right shameful in how he just ripped into the alien bastard then. Ignoring Aisha once again dying on him, he just went after that alien thing, wrathful to the point that the 8-bit pixels around him wavered. Nothing that the alien bastard said or promise cooled his anger. Eventually he just went back to the dull routine of failing Aisha over and over and over again because that seemed to be all he was. A failure to his friends and loved one, failing them at every turn until everyone lay dead around him.

Finally… something different happened. He was all set to fail Aisha again when another player joined the game. The backwards letters above their heads said 'Boss' and he only though that Zinyak was once again trying to fuck with him... until 'Boss' tried telling him that they were trapped in a simulation and he was there to bust him out. Whatever meta-bullshit Zinyak was throwing at him, he did not bite. Just dragged Playah 2 around to cut through the guys faster so they could just restart the simulation again. They got the end and surprise! Aisha perished once again. He was all set to start over once again when Playah 2 suddenly asked someone named 'Kensie' if she could place them back into the round but more forward. A not digitilized voice said that she could do it. Everything went hazy for a moment and suddenly they were standing in the doorway as that asshole was monolouging and... Aisha was alive? Playah 2 jumped through the air and buried both feet in the asshole's face, ripping him of all health and his weapon, leaving Aisha... alive...

The kid...

He did not need to reconcile or be a broody punk over her being dead. She was dead, he was beyond ready to move on. Plus the kid... oh god he was alive. He was alive and out there, alive and out there, alive and out there. He said this over and over to himself as he ripped his way out of that disgusting orange goo and persisted to destroy everything and everyone that he could get his hands on in that bastard's alien's ship. The bodies were just piling up as he cornered an asshole with sunglasses that he could steal. Finally got them as a stranger passed into his vision.

Stylish purple hair, dark skin, tattoos crawling down the length of his arms, up his neck and dancing across his hands and fingers. When the stranger snapped at him that it was time to go and craned his head, he recognized a Saint's S tattooed in Saints purple on the side of his neck. Did not remember him, so he asked, who the fuck he was. It was as the question left his mouth that he saw that that stranger's eyes were mismatched.

"It's me, Gat, not haul your ass, puta."

The kid! Holy shit he was alive and he... grew up. All that hair chopped off, the natural warm brown brushed out and replaced with Saint's purple, face leaner and so much older looking, frame filled out a lot more and a much healthier weight and his eyes... told of stress, anxiety and age that he did not remember being there. What the hell happened to him... he followed after him to find out. The kid lead him to a ship and he took the on-board guns and shot gory holes in everything that tried to shoot back. For a moment, he almost swore that a glimmer of that psychotic smile that he remembered so well and so fondly... but mostly the kid looked pissed off beyond reason as they shot their way out of the ship and sped out into space to once again hide from Zinyak's big guns.

He got to meet the crew, new and old faces all around. Everyone seemed to trip balls around him, trying to drag any detail that they could out of him. The kid just played pool with Pierce, glaring as they sunk balls into holes. The kid seemed more pissed off when it was mentioned that Zinyak saw himself as more of a threat, putting the pool cue through the solid metal table, shooting his mouth off as he tried to rip it free and Pierce inched away from him.

He got filled in after he shot down all the questions and prodding. Almost a decade had rolled on by without him in the picture. The kid got to be head of the Saints without him, got to be President of the USA too. Got the earth blown up too. But none of that mattered to him.

“What happened to you?” He asked, when they were finally alone as the kid tried to fix the pool table.

“Whadda mean?”

“You’re different,” He stated.

“…I got serious. The Saints weren’t going to get run by a brat that drank and did pot every day. I cleaned up, got serious and started running the gang, and then the country right,” The kid said, almost snapped.

“The hair, the outfit… the attitude...” He muttered. It was the kid but... he was so different from his Boss that he remembered so well.

“Look, if you don’t like me, fine. But you’re stuck with me until we beat Zinyak, so just work with me until then and then you’re free to do whatever the fuck you want.”

That ended the conversation bitterly. He did not mean to set the kid off, he kicked himself for putting his foot so far down his goddamn throat. He just wanted... he wanted to know how the kid was, how ten years without him felt like. He wanted to tell him how Zinyak tortured him for years with the image of his death and he was just so... worried that that was how it was going to end now. He wanted to share stories as they drank like old times, seeing that smarvy and psychotic grin resurface again. He wanted to tell the stupid fucking punk that he missed him and he was so damn happy that they were together again to wreak shit up. Instead he made it seem like the Boss had made changes for the worse and implied that he was different in a bad way. Fucking stupid, being in that stupid stimulation ripped whatever social graces he had.

He honestly thought that the kid would have ejected him from his ship, but after a week of silence the computer geek informed him that the kid was calling for backup in the simulation. Apparently there was something going on and the kid needed help quick. The kid asked for him and the emo punk, Matt or something, to rush in and help him out. Seeing an opportunity to try and fix his stupid fucking mistake, he hoped back into that dreaded pod and zipped through the simulated streets until they came onto a hoard of alien troops that just kept multiplying by the second.

He blasted a path through the aliens, slicing into them with his knife when bullets ran dry, trying to get to the kid somewhere in the mess. He heard the emo punk screaming bloody murder somewhere, but did not bother looking for him. Just cared about the kid, finding hiding behind a dumpster with digital blood seeping from his gut, torn open by bullets. Almost lost his ever loving shit when he saw the kid's guts all shot up, remembering all too keenly the simulation he was tortured with.

The kid rolled his eyes at him as he crouched down next to him, taking one of his SMGs to fight off aliens.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” He wheezed.

“And miss my old habit of saving your ass?” He said, kicking himself for sounding like an asshole right off the bat.

“Please…you didn’t do that…”

“And all the times you called me to bail your sorry ass out of the fire?” He asked distantly, shooting through some aliens.

“Maybe I was lonely,” The kid coughed, spitting up blood.

That horrible image of the kid bleeding out in his arms flashed before his eyes. He grabbed the kid’s shoulder and shook it hard, keeping him there until the simulation started acting right. The kid was bleeding out his nose now. One of his hands fumbled and found one of the kid's, squeezing his smaller hand hard to keep him there and present.

He saw a flash of neon and heard a screech. The kid chuckled beside him.

“There he goes… using those damned… powers I got him...”

“Powers, right,” He muttered, shooting more. The kid was too nonchalant about bleeding out for his sanity.

“Yeah… through a simulation that he… built off a fan fiction of his...” The kid laughed wetly, “That Nyteblade… shit...”

“Fan fiction?” He snorted.

“Yeah… that shit that teenagers write…I only ever read that garbage… when I was trying to find out… why I couldn’t bang any girls,” The kid wheezed, blood spraying the air.

...Now that he thought about it, they threw a lot of fine ass girls at the kid when he was younger... but he never did anything with them. Always figured he was too young and nervous or more sexually attracted to violence then people.

“You kidding?” He asked. No judging to be had from him, not when he had those terrible feelings in his own guts for the kid.

“Up to… you,” Kid laughed, blood dribbling down his chin.

Finally copies stopped popping up, so he relentlessly fire the rest with enough holes to drain them dry in seconds before they exploded into useless and defeated coding. As the numbers thinned out a bit, he saw the emo punk in what looked like a cheesy super hero outfit and flailing a neon glowing sword around while screaming. Would have been impressive if the fucker would stop his screaming for a second. Between bullets and blade, they cut down the alien numbers until nothing was left. When the last one dropped, the kid's wounds suddenly broke apart into bits of coding, a long and deep sigh of relief leaving him as the kid got up and wiped the blood from his face. When the Boss looked down at his shredded shirt and jeans, he grimaced at the holes and blood.

“Kinzie?” He asked the sky.

“Hold on… nope, sorry. You’re going to have to buy new ones,” The computer geek responded.

“For fucks sake!” The kid snapped.

“It contains the corrupted coding-“

“FUCKING ENGLISH!” The kid snapped.

“It’s fucked. Get new threads.”

The kid proposed a shopping trip, shoot a digital civilian's brains out and stealing his pretty car. The kid looked at his phone, like he knew how to use something more complicated than a coffee machine, before slamming on the gas and racing through four city blocks and stopping before a store called Leather and Lace. He remembered that store, one of his favorites to buy things for him and Aisha. If he remembered right it was mostly sexy things and kinky fetish gear, but he guessed with the kid saying that there were no store within 'no cops and shooting' distance that the kid just wanted something to wear.

When the kid parked, the emo punk looked outside and winced like he had his nuts kicked in.

“Relax,” He said flatly as they walked inside.

“You obviously have not seen him shopping,” Emo punk cringed.

He did not see what they meant until he saw the kid walking out of the dressing room to use the big mirror to look at himself in different outfit and… holy shit.

The kid seemed unphased as he came out in dressed, skirts, small t-shirts, tight pants, assless-chaps, marks, earrings, watches, and anything the store seemed to have. He was actually entertained by what the boss came out in. Frilly, pretty things or kinky fetish gear that showed off his chest and ass, tame shirts and jeans or tube tops and fluffy petticoats, the kid wore it all and seemed to see if it actually worked with his figure and looked good on him. It was a nice view, and watching the emo punk try and stare at the kid's shapely ass.

“…Didn’t realize that you liked the boss like that,” He said.

“What?”

“You check out his ass one more them, and he might just notice,” He smirked.

“I-I was not! I was simply wondering what god awful thing he was wearing this time!”

“Right, right, keep telling yourself that, emo punk,” He snarked.

The kid came out wearing a skin tight leather suit with a strangely sensual zipper that ran down his back and even over his shapely ass that he seemed to like, judging by the way he modeled in front of the mirror. The suit really clung to his ass though, making it stand out.

“Staring,” He pointed out, openly staring himself.

“Sh-shut up!”

“Gentlemen, please,” The kid said, “Johnny, I know Matt is staring at my ass, well aware. Matt, I know you’ve got a boner for me, so at least don’t lie to yourself.”

“A WHAT?!”

There was that smug look on the kid’s face, just like old times. Now if only he had the dreads like he did…

“I think I want this one,” The kid said, looking at himself in that tight leather outfit in the mirror, “It does make my ass look fantastic.”

“Please don’t,” The computer geek grumbled.

“Jealous bitch!” The kid snapped before dumping the cache on the counter and walking out with them in tow.

He tried not to stare too hard at the kid, and tried not to feel too jealous about the way that the emo punk was staring.

* * *

He found the kid passed out in the hallway one day, leaning against one of the doors and snoring away. The floating robo-ball told him that the kid had been trying to get some alone time and had simply passed out when he had tried to get to his room.

Whatever.

He hooked one of the kid’s arms around his shoulders and hauled him along to the captain’s quarters, dumping him on his own bed. He was going to leave it at that when he noticed the unzipped jumpsuit. Passed out in the hallway his ass…

He grabbed the zipper to pull it up, accidentally shifting the fabric and… wait. He pushed the jumpsuit open instead and saw instead something else.

Thick and poorly healed scar tissue, of the letters ‘Johnny Gat’, carved into the kid's stomach. Like the boss had carved the letters into his stomach, like the boss had let the wound fester and get infected, just so that it would scar so poorly it did. Just so that he would have a permanent reminder of him. But… why?

The kid woke up suddenly, pushing his hands away, words slurring heavily. Passed out drunk in the hallway, forgetting to head to the john to throw up, or that was what he thought the kid was trying to say. Mostly it was just the kid pushing his hands away and trying to zip up his suit, drunken fingers trying to work the suddenly complicated device.

“…Why?” He asked softly.

A pause in the fumbling.

“Shawwwny did too. Cunnd fourgut. Nut you… not you”

He let the kid be for the evening.

* * *

Everyone got in the main room for some pool and drinks. The kid was sitting in the back of the ship, all alone, fiddling with his phone like he knew how to use it.

When he came in, offering a glance over his shoulder to make sure everyone was busy, he casually knocked it from the kid’s hands and got a ‘the fuck did you just do bitch?’ glare from him before he bent down and kissed the look off his face. When he pulled back, the kid was dark red and looking quite flustered, and so much younger than he did. Like the damned kid he had gotten all teary eye over.

It only took a handful of open mouth kisses with some tongue before he had the kid sprawled on the couch, unzipping his jumpsuit to rub along the tattoos on the kid’s chest, fingers finding the hammer pulse underneath the inked skin. The kid was making all sorts of amazing sounds as he touched him, spreading his hands out wide across the dark and tattooed skin to greedily take in the feeling. Kid kept making those amazing sounds when he pushed the suit out of the way and laid claim to the kid's skin with his teeth and lips, marking what his hands had felt up until the kid was breathless.

He was thankful for the noise that the others were making in the other room, because the kid got real loud when they got to the good parts, him pressed against the kid’s back, biting into his shoulder with his hands on the kid’s hips and guiding him to move just the right way that had them both having troubles keeping quiet. The kid made such amazing sounds, voice so perfectly needy and sexy that it drove him wild. He put his mouth everywhere he could, hands too when he could pry them off the kid's hips, just to hear that perfectly sexy voice more as they moved together. The kid managed to sound even sexier as he went breathless as he came, tight and hot body squeezing and milking him as he busted his nut deep in the kid, stealing that sexy voice and his fading breath in a heated kiss.

They laid together for a bit, panting and shaking because holy shit he had not busted his nut in ten year and it had to bee the best sex he just had and the kid tried to reclaim his breath. When the others kept making such a loud rukus, he pried himself away from the Boss and carried him bridal style back up to the Captain's quarters and dragged into into bed and forcing him to snuggle.

“So…” The kid started after a moment of lying in silence.

“So,” He parroted back.

“This… what was this? Some sort of pity fuck or something?”

“Or something,” He said quietly just wanting to enjoy the warm body and how goddamn comfortable he was.

“…I'm not a pity fuck," The kid snapped, pulling himself lose and moving to slip into spacesuit again, robbing him of all that delicious skin, "I don't have sex for fun, Johnny and I'm certainly not gonna be an easy lay for you to get your rocks off after all these years. Fuck, why the hell didn't I just shove my foot up your ass when you kissed me?"

He grabbed him, pulled him back into bed despite how pissed of he looked. He grab that defiant face and kissed him, kissed that angry look off his face, just kept kissing him until the kid pushed him away and glared darkly at him.

"I don't do pity fucks," He stated, "I may have had meaningless fucks before, but I hated that shit after Aisha. Before you open that pretty mouth, you're not a replacement for Aisha, I've moved on, trust me. Now I only make love and with someone that I want around."

The Boss looked like he had something to say, but his mouth quickly shut as he saw the gears turning in the kid's eyes, cheeks flushing pretty damn cutely as he put it together. He bashfully looked aside as he scratched at his nose, letting him wrap his arms around the smaller man and drag them back into bed and snuggle. The kid wriggled and got real comfortable in his arms, where he wanted to have the kid a lot more, before sighing contently.

He had seen the kid at the start... now he wanted to be there, all the way to the end.


	2. Scare Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Implied romantic feelings. Drug use/abuse, drug overdose.
> 
> Reason 1 why the kid didn't do drugs anymore
> 
> ((fuck it, Saints Row one shots because I am weak))

He remembered all too keenly the time they got the kid to OD on drugs.

Just sixteen and everyone still thought he was a goddamn mute. But that did not stop the Saints from dragging him to parties. Throw a beer in his hand and a chick on his lap and laugh as he seemed completely lost on what to do. He laughed really hard when one of the chicks busted open her top and smothered his face in two large mounds of fake tit. 

First drug party they took him too, he tried to refuse everything given to him and that terrified look in his mismatched eyes and biting his lip hard enough to almost bleed. But then someone stuffed a cracked light bulb underneath his nose and made him sniff something. He had white powder all over his cupid’s bow, everyone laughed at that and someone did it again, causing him to cough up a white cloud.

The kid wobbled on his feet, groaning and moaning. Someone put a joint in between his lips and told him to relax and enjoy himself. The kid could hardly stand straight. Doped out of his own mind, he sat next to the kid with an arm around his thin shoulders, smoke from the joint before stuffing it between the kid’s teeth to let him huff from it and then puff some for himself. The orange color of one of the kid’s eyes started to look a lot more like the sunset, and the dark blue of the other started looking like a perfect night.

The kid wobbled to the bathroom at one point, and everyone heard retching. They called him a light weight and laughed it off. But the kid… stayed in the bathroom, throwing up. At one point, jovial laughter turned into unvoiced worry, and then unvoiced worry turned to twitchy, barely controlled panic. Finally he ended up busting down the door to the bathroom and finding the kid passed out in his own vomit. A girl had screamed, calling him dead on the spot. He checked for pulse faster then he wanted to admit, and found it thumping weakly against the dark skin.

The kid had the fastest car, hijacked it only a couple of hours ago, and he took the liberty of using it to drive like a fucking nut job to the hospital and hauling the kid’s limp body in his arms, getting vomit on his good jacket and shirt and not really giving two shits.

A few hours later, painfully sober and feeling like he was going to end up passed out in his own vomit, and elderly lady dropped on by with half a dozen kids on her heels. Took one look at him and slapped him hard enough to bust open his lip, calling him half a dozen rather crude names in Spanish before marching off. He realized that she had perfect night blue eyes and followed after her, licking at this bloodied lip.

The kid was barely conscious when she strolled on in, taking a seat by his bedside and then chewing him out aggressively in Spanish. He picked up a few rather harsh insults mixed in with the angry sounding words. Finally the woman gently took one of the kid’s limp hands and pressed it to her cheeks, eyes big and watering as she cooed something that sounded kinder and sweeter. The kid cracked his eyes open and managed something in Spanish, he could not understand what it was, let alone as garbled as it was. The elderly woman chuckled softly and stayed with him for a few hours before leaving.

Before he got kicked out before the end of visiting hours, he sat with the kid for a bit. Just silently sitting there, occasionally looking over at the kid staring blankly up at the ceiling with his mismatched eyes.

“You going to be okay, kid?” He had finally asked.

The kid nodded silently.

“Then I’m heading out. Next time, we’ll keep the drugs away from you, alright playa?”

He was about to head out, leave for some beers and Aisha, call it good and leave the kid be… when he thought he heard something. He stopped at the foot of the kid’s bed and looked at him, cocking an eyebrow.

The kid was kind of sitting up, propped up on his elbows more like it, biting his lips extra hard. An eye the color of sunsets and an eye the color of perfect nights flickered between the kid’s hospital gown and then him. It took several long moments of standing there for something to happen.

“Th-thanks, Johnny”

He really thought that the kid was a fucking mute, and felt himself flinch at the sound of his voice. A timid little voice that still had some growing up to do and colored beautifully with a Spaniard accent. But the kid’s voice. And for some reason, he felt proud for being the first to hear it, he felt some small part of him being satisfied for finally hearing it, and then he felt something in his lower gut that he was utterly terrified of and did not want to address.

“What? For dragging your doped up ass here in your own car? No sweat kid, get some sleep”

The kid let out a small smile, just the slight curve to the nervous line of his mouth, and he nestled back on the flat hospital bed as he walked out of the room, rubbing his gut to will the feeling away.


	3. One Time, In a Tank (m/m smut)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: M!Boss/Johnny. Anal fingering, anal sex
> 
> Wasn't his fault that the Boss was such a fucking tease, right?

He would admit that he had a major boner for destruction, death, carnage and generally everything and anything violent. Actually, it was pretty damned obvious to anyone that knew him that he could practically get off on a massive gun fight.

There was just something about the smell of a hot gun, the crisp pops of a gun, the bangs of even bigger guns, the smell and heat of explosions, the way a body crumbled when it died, the look and color of blood and just… damn, he got excited just thinking about it.

So, it was kind of hard to not pop wood when the kid took him into the simulation to cause shit. Defeating waves of enemies, flinging super powered blasts from their fingertips, hijacking cars and tearing through the city to get it to a safe spot, and then destroying everything with tanks and mech-suits and all other fun toys, it was really hard not to get thoroughly horny. It got even worse after he and the Boss started shacking up. Then he was thinking about the glorious violence and how fucking sexy the kid could get.

He supposed that it was why he suddenly pounced on the kid while they were crammed inside a tank.

There were 'missions' that the kid could do in the simulation that could break Zinyak control over certain sections, making it bright and beautiful Saint's purple tinted safe zones that the Boss and company could freely roam about in. One of the missions was cause general havoc and stack up cache amounts of damage using some very pretty toys.

The mission that the kid was doing involved blowing shit up with a tank. Now, he thought it would have at least two seats on the inside. However, when he slipped inside of the tank, he was almost amused to find out that it only had one slightly large seat. There was enough for one ass, so the kid had to make himself comfortable on his lap. The kid made a quip, but he could tell that the Boss was not that bothered by the arrangement, taking a seat in his lap to handle the heavy guns while he maned the actual canon fire.

It was not until the actual fun began that he realized that it was not going to be some innocent fun.

The kid laughed manically, aiming the gun at anything that moved and even a few things that did not. Cars, people, aliens, trees, postboxes, mailboxes, anything. The cars blew up, the people exploded in gory data messes that quickly vanished, trees collapsed into splinter piles that disappeared, posts went flying, mailboxes exploded into bits and cache and anything else usually exploded as well. All the while the kid enthusiastically moved around, wiggling around in his lap to move with the guns so he could hit everything. 

Honestly between the destruction and that fantastic ass wriggling around in his lap, well it was not long until he popped some wood. With how the kid was basically grinding against his dick, he went from hard to almost dripping in no time as well. It was the kid’s fault, having that perfect ass and rubbing it against his crotch like that, wriggling and bouncing around in his enthusiasm. Just the right warmth, just the right firmness and softness, one of those asses you could bounce a quarter off of. That perfect ass, just there... damn.

Fuck, if the kid kept moving like he was then he would end up shamefully jizzing his pants.

“YAY! We did it!”

The kid was perfectly still, denying his sensations.

“Hey boss? You might want to unplug, Johnny’s real body isn’t doing so well.”

The kid looked back at him, frowning. He had his face buried in the kid’s back, hands tempted to grab the kid’s hips and force him to grind that perfect ass in his lap some more. But the kid just shrugged and started steering the tank towards a door to exit the simulation.

When they got back on the ship, he grabbed the front of the kid’s jumpsuit and dragged him towards the captain’s quarters, ignoring all the looks they got on the way out. He stripped the kid down in record time, had him pinned against the side of the bed and had the kid screaming himself raw with his name before he was done with the teasing punk.

* * *

They had to go cause some chaos with a tank again. Apparently the kid had gotten a really shitty job done the other day so the kid was trying again.

When the kid started getting excited, laughing as he did while shooting everything in sight, his hand went right to the kid’s crotch. His palm cupped the bulge inside the kid’s leather suit, grinding down with teasing pressure.

“H-hey!” The kid snapped, hands never leaving the controls.

He freed his other hand, which went to the zipper down the kid’s back, undoing it and then slipping inside. The hand inside his suit groped along his back and then went to his front, rubbing along the kid’s sweaty chest and finding the kid’s peaked nipples and giving them a few tugs. The kid was gasping soon, grinding his hips up into his hand.

“Johnny,” The kid groaned.

“That’s right, say my name” He grunted, grinding his own hips up into the kid’s ass, grinding a full erection into that skin tight leather suit “Say my name, babe”

“Ja-Johnny,” The kid moaned deeply.

He pushed the kid’s jump suit down, getting it off his arms and then pushed it down below his knees. And then he had a lap full of needy, sweaty kid who kept grinding against his hand, hands clinging to the gun controls to steady himself more than actually shooting anything. And with that damned suit out of the way, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his surprise.

The computer geek, as he found out, was truly crafty with her computers. When he had asked her for a bottle of all purpose gel, for his hair of course, it took less than two minutes and she claimed that the next time he was in the simulation he would find it in his pocket. She had asked if it was really for his hair, to which he did not respond, letting her little mind wonder about it in payment for the gel. So now he had a bottle of all purpose gel, some of which he squirted into his hands, getting them slick, before putting his hands on the kid again.

One slick hand started stroking the kid slowly, teasing him into full hardness, while his slick fingers prodded underneath the kid’s sac and was rubbing that tight little ring of muscle before pushing a finger inside of that fantastic ass. Hot damn it was hit and tight inside of him, he could feel it twitch around his finger as he rubbed the kid into submission.

The kid keened loudly, gasping and his hips twitching. The kid’s dick twitched in his hand, as his hot ass clamped down on his finger.

One thing he found out from just a few romps with the kid was that he moaned like a fucking primetime porn star. All breathy and needy and weak, had a way of making him get all hot and bothered from just listening to it. And damn, the sounds that the kid was making, like no other in his long and extensive sex life. He could not wait to hear what the kid sounded like getting his ass plowed again.

He pushed in another finger, the kid letting out a long and mewling moan in response. His teeth found the kid’s shoulder, biting hard enough to have left a mark if it was not the simulation. The kid was mewling and breathing weakly, hips moving as he fought to impale himself on the fingers inside of him like a world champ porn star. He wanted to see.

He pushed his legs underneath the kids and lifted both the kid’s legs and his hips up as he propped his legs on the tanks controls, shooting missiles in the process, and forcing the kid’s body to bend enough he could get a slightly better view of him fingering the kid’s hot arse. Kid was not flexible enough that he could actually watch his fingers slip in and out, but the kid was forced to watch his moving hand and his dick fill up with blood.

“God damn tease,” He growled in the kid’s ear, biting it for emphasis.

“Fa-fuck you,” The kid panted out.

“No thanks, gladly fuck you though.”

He pulled his fingers out, getting himself out and nice and slicked up before pulling the kid’s ass to his lap and pulling him down slowly, feeling his dick nudge the wet, little ring and then push into the tight, hot, wet heat. Goddamn… the kid’s ass…

Grabbing the backs of the kid’s thighs, he hoisted the kid’s legs up and pulled them all the way to his chest, grinding his hips up against the kid’s ass and feeling his body convulse and shudder in his arms. He bit and kissed along the back of the kid’s neck, feeling the kid tighten and squeeze around him, nothing but tight, wet heat that made him want to plow the kid’s brains out and screaming his name.

“Boss?”

…Shit, really?!

“Boss? Are you alright? You’re heart rate just jumped...”

The kid’s hand was at his mouth, trying not to make any sound. Both their hips were twitching and grinding, trying to stimulate but not trying to cause any sound.

“Boss?”

“We’re fine, Boss is just in the zone,” He managed.

“But… you guys aren’t moving?”

Shit, when did that happen?

“Boss?”

Gritting his teeth, he got real close to the kid’s ear and growled out quietly.

“Either you are going to have to take the controls, or me. Whoever doesn’t does the moving.”

The kid clenched his teeth real tight and leaned forward enough to take the controls again. He felt the jump of the tank moving, before adjusting his grip in the kid’s thighs, pulling him up a bit off his dick and then slamming home into him. The kid chocked on his cry, the tank thudding as it ran something over. He just grinned as he got a good grip and started hammering upwards into the kid.

Damn, he would never get over the kid’s ass. So damn tight, so damn hot, and the way that the kid clenched whenever he hit something right was amazing. And the friction with how he was moving… he was not going to last long that was for sure. And judging by the sounds that the kid was making, he was not going to either.

“Ja-Johnny,”

Oh damn, that needy voice again.

“I-I’m close,”

He bit into the kid’s shoulder.

“Say my name,” He growled against the flesh, pounding up faster into the kid.

“Johnny, Johnny...” The kid moaned.

Oh shit, he was losing it, he was losing it.

“Johnny!”

The kid clamped down on him just as he was busting his nut, thrusting into the kid to ride out the pleasure. The kid moaned and groaned above him, eventually whining when the sensitivity got to him. And then he sat back with the kid still impaled in his lap, panting as the kid went limp in his arms and panted with him too.

Eventually the kid leaned back against him, his forehead against his neck. His skin was flushed, the dark purple strands of his hair sticking to his sweat sticky skin, spit wet lips parted as he sucked in air like a landed fish.

“Come here,”

He pulled the kid’s head up enough to kiss him, robbing him of what little air he had and putting another shade of red and pink to his cheeks before letting him go and just taking a moment for both of them to come down from their highs.

After about fifteen minutes that was thankfully not interrupted by the computer geek, the kid let out a slightly ragged chuckle.

“We probably just jizzed our pants in real life...”

He chuckled at that too, wondering what the crew would think if they got caught trying to sneak back to the Captain’s Quarters with wet spots in the fronts of their jumpsuits.

“Next time though...” The kid said, one of his tattooed hands finding his “Can we not do it in the tank? I think you bruised my thighs from griping them like they were fucking handles”

“Fine, whatever kid,” He smirked.


	4. Mama Gonna Kill Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Violence against an Adolescent. Implied romantic feelings.
> 
> He remembered when the kid got his first ink, and how it led to him moving out of his mom's house.

He remembered when the kid got his first tattoo and how it led to him moving out of his mom's house. 

The ink was a giant, heavy stylized ‘Saints’ tattooed across his shoulders. Everyone was drunk on rat piss whiskey, hell, maybe the tattoo artist was too. He remembered betting twenty bucks that the kid would not cry when Lin and Dex were betting that he would, giggling into the long necks of their beers as the kid had to strip out of his shirt and straddle the chair backwards as the tattoo artist hiccuped and pulled out the purple ink.

At that point, he had only heard ‘Thanks Johnny’ out of the kid, in the small voice, colored by his accent and still sounding like he needed to hit puberty. He was hoping to hear the kid say something else. Hear him scream, cuss, curse someone, threaten someone with bodily harm each time they laughed as he winced. But no. He said nothing as the tattoo blossomed across his shoulders. Sometimes he winced, but otherwise he looked rather stoic as he sat there. Just that miserable mute kid with the different colored eyes.

The tattoo artist finished it in one sitting, magically, and wiped away at the reddened skin to show off the masterpiece that he managed in his drunken haze. Everyone was impressed, and he made forty bucks out of it, and it felt like a good night. But there was work in the morning, and everyone needed ample time to work through their coming hangovers. Lin took Dex home, and he drove the kid home in a car they jacked together.

In the dark lights of the city, the kid’s eyes seemed glassy. Almost like he was holding back tears, but more like his eyes were wider than usual. That miserable and sullen look on his face refused to go away.

“Cheer up kid!” He grinned “You got your first ink. First step into being a big man,”

The kid just glanced over at him before sighing deeply, letting the silence sink in until the air felt heavy. He thought about turning the radio on, but the silence all but put a knife to his throat to stay. And stay it did until he heard a small voice, Spanish accent and sounded so kid like

“Mama’s gonna kill me,”

He looked over, but the kid was statue like. It did not seem like he was that one that talked. Maybe it was outside? Yeah. Kid was a fucking mute who seemed to find his voice at the weirdest of times. Kid would never try and force small talk.

He made it to the kid’s house. Some small little house in the suburbs. The lights were still on inside, despite the fucking ridiculous hours. He saw shadows moving across the curtain covered windows.

But… the kid never once moved. He stared blankly out the window, mouth in a tight line, watching the shadows on the windows.

“Hey kid? You okay?”

The kid looked down at his knees that he could see through the holes in his jeans, and then back out the window. He was tense, like before a gun fight. Tense like when someone pulled a knife on him and he had nothing to defend himself with. Tense like when the kid was cornered by someone that wanted to talk to him, and for him to talk back.

The kid took a deep breath in, biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

“Mama’s gonna kill me,”

Okay, so the kid definitely spoke earlier. But why was his mom going to kill him? A tattoo? He was already in a fucking gang already. He had seen the kid drunk into a stupor, buzzed out of his mind and over-dozed on drugs before. Why was she going to kill him over a tattoo?

“Lighten up. Go get some sleep kid. And if your momma really does try and kill you? Get away and you can come crash with me. Mmkay?”

The kid looked at him, sighed through his nose, and then meekly got out of the car. He shuffled his way to the front door of his house, which swung open and showed the kid’s deranged mother. She screamed something rather colorful and socked him right in the jaw, drawing blood first hit. She continued screaming at him as she yanked him inside the house and he drove away feeling like an asshole.

~*~

Maybe around 4am, he heard the door opening. 

He found sleep hard to come by, having trouble not thinking about seeing the kid almost get his lights knocked out by his mom. He just felt… bad? He really should have yelled for the kid, made something up about stuff going down suddenly and needing his help. He was sure that the kid would have appreciated it. But he did not. He slunk off like an asshole because… why did he? He could have helped a friend out in need and did not… he felt shitty.

When he heard the door open, he came out of his bedroom and saw the kid come in. His lip was busted, had a nasty black eye, one of his cheeks was swelled up and dripping blood. He had a couple of bruises that he saw along the kid’s knuckles and arms before the kid stumbled over and fell over on the couch. When he walked over to him, he saw redness at the kid’s colors that was definitely not from the tattoo.

“Hey kid? You okay?”

The kid refused to answer.

So he went hunting for the first-aid kit. Found it gathering dust in the kitchen sink, past stored bottles of vodka. Brushing the dust off, he grabbed a beat up chair from the kitchen and put it down in front of the couch. Cracking open the kit, he yanked one of the kid’s arms towards him. Not much he could do about the bruises, but he slapped on anti-infection shit on the scraps and cuts and his busted knuckles and then slammed bandages on top. Did the same for the other arm.

When he was done with the kid’s other arm, he was sitting up and miserably looking at his knees again. Gave him a chance to put the anti-infection stuff on his cheek and slap (figuratively speaking) a bandage on the red skin. Not much he could do for the lip, or the black eye, so he hunted down to dusty pain killer in the kit, got the kid a glass of water and put them both in his hands. The kid swallowed them willingly and then stared at his busted hands.

“You know, when you said you’re mama was gonna kill you, I didn’t think you’d mean for real” He quipped.

The kid said nothing.

He put the kit back where he dug it up, came back and sat with the kid.

“…She do it?”

The kid nodded slowly.

“…You want to stay here for awhile? Don’t think she’d come into gang hoods to find you,”

The kid shrugged.

“You know kid, I won’t say shit. Your still a fucking kid after all. I’m surprised by half the shit you still manage to do. If you want to be mad, or sad I-“

“Gangstah’s don’t cry,” The kid said firmly “I ain’t gonna cry either,”

He stared at the kid for a long time, wondering if the kid just got beat out of him. But he bumped the kid’s shoulder affectionately, turning on the TV to some bad action movie and sitting with him until the kid passed out, leaning heavily on him and snoring softly away on his shoulder. 

And he could help but feel a terrible thing in his gut, as he let the kid doze away on him into the early hours of the morning, staring blankly at the TV screen. He wondered how much jail time he would get if he beat the kid’s mom the next time he saw her, and he wondered if the kid would ever be the same again. And he could not help but want to stay with the kid, no mater what.


	5. Scars and Ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Implied rimming. Mentions of mutilation.

He liked the kid’s ink.

The kid looked like he had some removed, around the hands and the collar at one point, he could feel the scar tissue when he traced and touched the skin. But since the kid was no longer in monkey suits all the time and did not have to look like a proper authority, he had a few redone.

Like the skulls on the fingers, the purple stars around his throat, other gang shit around his wrists that he did not need to worry about the sleeves of suits riding up to reveal. He could feel the scar tissue underneath the fresh ink as he touched the kid’s skin, held his hands for some dumb shit, grabbed his wrists for something, and scrubbed his fingers along the back of the kid’s tense neck.

He sometimes thought about the kid’s first ink, still there across his shoulders as he sometimes traced it with his fingertips and mouth, and how his mom busted him up good for it. And sometimes, when he thought of it, he surprised the kid was a hug that he let fly because ‘Oh, Johnny’s just thinking about shit in the past again’.

Sometimes, when he thought about the ink, he could not help but think about the scars too. The nasty, never go away, scars on his stomach. When he cornered Shaundi about it, she told him how they were crying and sobbing over one another after seeing that plane go down. They stumbled into an alley and she came up with the idea to carve his name up her thigh and she needed the boss to do it. She said that the kid agreed but only if she did the same for him, and she confessed that she was itching to carve into something with a knife.

She rolled up the leg of her spacesuit and showed that she had tattooed over the scars, something more edgy and more towards his style in font and purple color. But she had also added on ‘In Memory Of’ and then his birth and ‘death’ dates. She joked about how it was all pointless now, now that they knew he was alive. But it did not help the fact that he knew that the kid carved the name into her and she carved the name into him. Almost made him want to be sick.

And sometimes, when he traced the kid’s ink as he mindlessly tinkered with his phone, he could not help but get a little frisky. He loved the trick ‘Hey kid, want to watch me make you ink disappear?’ He would get the kid to say ‘what?’ and then take two of the kid’s and swallow them down to the base knuckle, making the kid blush all sorts of reds. And the times he traced the kid’s tats, sometimes brushing his mouth against one, moving down slowly so that the kid would not mind. All the way down the kid’s body until he got to a certain place and had the kid letting out inhuman noises.

But those damned scars were bothering him. When he cracked open the kid’s spacesuit they were right there, and when he was running his hands up and down the kid’s chest and stomach, he would feel them. Sometimes he got so rip, roaring pissed at them that he dragged his nails a little too hard across the kid’s stomach and got kicked in the gut for it. He just… did not want to think about how the kid was without him and having a glaring reminder was a bit much.

So he talked to the kid about it… well… talked was a bit of a weak word for it. More like… he about ordered the kid to do something about.

“You want me to go to Image by Design and get rid of it?” The kid asked, sounding angry.

“I heard they made you look like Cyrus, and if they can make you a towering asshole, they can laser off some scars” He snapped.

Right now they were in the Captain’s Quarters. The kid had his arms crossed over his chest, mirroring him as he leaned against some mechanical do-dad coming out of the wall.

“Look, Johnny, I know they came from a bad time. Hell, they even look bad, but I don’t want to get rid of them.” The kid said “So uh… fuck off.”

Here he grabbed the kid’s shoulders, hard enough to get his point across.

“Fuck. That,” He snapped “You think I want to see a reminder about how you went off the fucking deep end? Don’t think that Shaundi didn’t tell me about what happened.”

Here the kid looked down, avoiding his gaze. And then he was glaring back, scowling something fierce.

“So what? I mourned a friend that I thought I lost, is that so fucking bad?” The kid snapped.

“I ain’t lost now.” He said firmly.

The kid rolled his eyes, looking like that once mouthy teenager he blew shit up with. And then he was shrugging out of his hands and moving towards the simulation, giving up on the argument. And he watched the kid get in his pods and the clamps come down, watching the anger melt away and thinking about going and stabbing some holes in the ship.

~*~

When the kid came out he was woozy like some of the other times he came out. He stumbled across the room and into the arms of a laughing Kinzie before puking on her shoes and smirking to himself as he stumbled down to where he was at.

When the kid got down to him, he unzipped the back of his jumpsuit and peeled it away until he could see that the kid had got something done about the scars. They were barely visible now against his tanned skin. When he splayed his hands on the kid’s stomach, he could barely feel them.

“Better, piss-baby?” The kid grouched.

He slapped the kid on the ass hard enough for him to squeak.

“A bit.”

Now he could focus on tracing the ink across the kid’s arms, shoulders and hands, thinking about the good memories, rather than think about the bad memories etched onto his stomach.


	6. Ink (m/m smut)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Frottage. Anal Fingering.
> 
> The kid has scars, and the scars have history. He has history with the kid too,, he thinks.

He traced S of the ‘Saints’ on the kid’s back as the kid tapped away on his phone, probably learning how to use the damned thing. He was lying on the kid’s back, tracing the tattoos along the back of the kid’s shoulders, finding scars that he could see and feeling the slightest raise in the skin of scars that the tattoos covered. Purples that were once vibrant now a bit faded, the edges wearing away, some of the lines broken.

The kid had to be what… early thirties? He was sixteen when he started. Five years in a coma? Twenty one years old when they had their fun. Just a couple of months later when he got kidnapped so… the kid could have only been what? Twenty two maybe twenty three? The tattoo was only a couple of years old and it looked like it had to have seen almost a decade of wear and tear. Just showed all the crazy shit that happened to the kid.

He dragged his knuckles along the kid’s spine, feeling just the slightest bumps with the kid’s vertebra. The kid let out a content little sigh and wriggled a bit underneath him, settling in more comfortably. When he dragged a single nail along the edge of the kid’s shoulder-blade, the kid let out another little content sigh.

He always did wonder what happened to that broken teenager and then that sociopathic young guy that he once knew. He supposed they changed. The broken teenager needed to be stronger to be a Saint, so he shook off that fear and that abusive household. Just shook it all off until he freed his inner sadist and let him run around, blowing shit up and the like. And then the psycho was put in a seat of power and some part of him realized that he needed to be an adult. And he shook off the sociopath until he managed to make a semi responsible adult of himself.

Sure, this was the guy that still got all hot and bothered by shooting shit up and blowing things up with super powers and generally causing havoc. But this was also the guy that managed to run the country without too much trouble before the earth got blown up. One side of the kid that he remembered and another side that had to form without him. He still knew the kid just… not the new things, he figured.

Like how he knew how to use a cell phone that was no programmed to literally take no less than two button presses to make work. Peek over the kid’s shoulder, he saw the kid typing something with his phone. Looked too long to be a text though, so he figured the kid was using his phone to write things down. Probably ideas and shit. He did not care enough to ask and cared too much to pry.

He brushed his mouth against the back of the kid’s neck before thumbing a nasty little scar that cut through the ‘i’ in the ‘Saints’ on his back. It was small, and looked like it never healed right and looked a lot like a lot of the other little, nasty scars on his back. Shrapnel, maybe? Maybe when the boat exploded? Or someone knifed him quite a few times with a pocket knife. When he dragged his fingertips across it, the kid’s back flexed and relaxed.

“Itchy?” He joked quietly.

The kid chuckled underneath him, tapping away on his phone.

“Scars always itch. Especially the ones from when that fucking boat exploded with me on it.” The kid chuckled “That one still has something in it. Docs couldn’t cut it out, and so it always fucking bothers me.”

“I could cut it out.” He said playfully, dragging his nail across the scar.

“If the top fucking surgeon in the world couldn’t cut it out of my back, then I don’t think that you can.” The kid snorted “Besides, it’s fine. It’s just annoying sometimes.”

He scratched at the scar, wondering if there was not some alien technology that could help the kid. Probably could, if they looked. But if it really did not bother the kid that he was not going to pry. Just scratch along his back and help the poor guy out.

He found another scar hidden by the ink. It was a long scar that was definitely done with a knife or something really sharp. Shallow judging by the way it healed, and probably someone wildly swinging at his back like a fucking coward. For some reason he thought about the kid’s bitch for a mom. It seemed like something that she would do.

As he trailed his fingers along it, the kid froze up. So instead he trailed his fingers down the kid’s spine again, putting pressure in the right places to get him to relax again. When the kid was all mushy again, he flopped down on him, full dead weight, lips brushing the back of the kid’s neck. He nuzzled against the kid’s warm skin, not minding the slight and faint smell of sweat that lingered past the smell of the weird soap that the ship carried. 

“Hey Johnny?”

“Yeah?” He gruffed, too comfortable.

“I just…nothing, never mind man.” The kid sighed.

“Just fucking spit it out.” He sighed.

“I never did thank you for getting me out of my mom’s house, did I?” The kid said quietly “So I guess… thanks for letting me crash at your place all those years ago?”

“…you’re fine. It’s wasn’t shit back then and it still isn’t today.” He said.

The kid put his phone aside and twisted underneath him, mismatched eyes looking at him. He cocked an eyebrow at the kid, getting a ‘fucking really?’ crooked smile in return and then the kid was leaning forward to kiss him. Nothing special, just a quick peck on the lips and the kid was leaning back against the pillow, face just a touch pinker than normal.

“…Fuck…” He sighed.

He had the kid’s legs around his waist and had the kid in a more exciting kiss, holding his face so that he could take what he wanted. The kid was getting excited against him, face getting progressively redder. Some spit from both their mouths and he took them both in hands, rubbing them until they were hard and then grinding against him, feeling his body flush underneath his. The kid moaned, that fucking hot breathy and needy moan, and he pressed their hips together more tightly.

The kid dug his nails into his back, leaving stinging marks that he did not care much about. He nipped along the kid’s throat and ears, hearing that perfect needy voice say his name like it was a mantra. He left wet hickies and little bruises all over the kid’s neck as he rocked against the kid. His slippery fingers went down to the kid’s ass, prodding at first and then something slipping inside, feeling the hot insides twitch around his finger. The kid let out a fantastic noise as he was fingered, writhing against him and clawing his back more.

The kid whined against him, rocking his hips desperately. He was getting close, and it seemed like the kid was getting there too. He shoved another finger inside the kid and felt him clamp down, a weak strand of sound escaping the kid’s mouth before he felt the kid tense and then mewl his way through an orgasm. He rutted against the kid a few more times and grunted his way through an orgasm as well, sighing as he enjoyed the high before flopping on the kid, feeling something sticky against his chest and stomach.

After catching their breath, the kid found his phone again and started tapping away, despite the sweat on his cheeks, the way his lips were a touch swollen and the hickies on his neck. He nuzzled into the kid’s shoulder, enjoying the soft sounds of the kid’s fingers as he tapped, tapped, tapped away and his easy breathing.

Easy… he never he would think something was easy and calm. And hell… it was not that bad.


	7. Trigger-(Mentions of child abuse)

He heard once, that survivors of things… survivors of rape, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, abusive childhoods, survivors that took one their abuse and lived to see another sunrise. Survivors had these little ticks that would make them go off the fucking hinge and lose their shit.

He knew that the kid had a childhood of getting the shit beat out of him and just tore apart emotionally by his bitch mom. But he had never seen the kid really lose his shit. Sure, he had a phase where he got as much of a blood and violence boner as he did from violence, drank and did drugs everyday and generally was a ‘living every day like it’s my last’ kid of guy. But nothing that made him go all balls out in a fit of emotional outrage.

But he saw it one day and it was… horrifying.

Walking along in the simulation, one hand in the kid’s back pocket so he could squeeze that fine ass occasionally. They were just walking down the digital street in some rusty neighborhood while the kid hummed to himself and walked alongside of him. The kid wanted to just walk for a bit, get his head right and he wanted to walk with him, enjoy the quiet with him and the perfect squish of that perfect ass without it being sexual.

Just walking along… until the kid stopped. With his hand in the kid’s pocket, he was forced to stop too. He was about to ask the kid what happened when he saw it too.

A digital kid wearing the Saints purple. A digital mom with a rolling pin poised to hit this kid as she held onto their purple shirt.

Silence.

Then madness.

The kid was on the digital mom in a second, screeching and furiously punching the woman into a gooey mess because of the kid’s digitally enhanced strength and powers. His fists lit up a vivid orange as his ‘Smash’ power lit up. The concrete underneath them started to cave in as the kid just kept punching the red and sloppy mess further and further into the concrete.

“Boss? Boss!” He yelled.

The concrete was looking more and more like a crater hit it rather than a mad man was punching a bitch into oblivion. She was nothing more than a gooey mess, splattering the kid’s face, arms, chest and legs more and more with flesh, blood, bone fragments, grey-matter and bits of intestines. His eyes, mismatched night sky and bright and stunning sunset, were flat and filled with nothing but bloodlust.

“BOSS!”

Aliens were showing up, people with pulling guns out of their coding eyeing them, tanks and other things showing up as the kid kept wreaking the concrete as he punched the gory mess. They were not ready to take on a mass force, just out for a fucking walk!

He took his gun out and shot the kid point blank through the back of the head, splattering his digital brains into the gory mess that he was covered in. The kid stopped, wavered, and then faded into a mess of digital purple coding.

* * *

The kid was hiding in the Captain’s room, the lights off and curled up on the floor and in the corner like he was getting ready to protect himself from kicks while he was down.

He closed the door behind him and set his sunglasses aside before going down and easing himself to the ground. The metal was cold against his ass and in the stupid skin tight suits they wore, but he figured it was not too bad if the kid could lay curl on the ground.

“Hey boss…” He said quietly.

When the boss remained stone still, he rubbed the kid’s side. He felt the kid’s side shake at first, before relaxing. It reminded him of the scared Spanish teenager with mismatched eyes and too horrified to speak to anyone. Not the strong man that he had come to think of as his best friend and perhaps his boyfriend since they started shacking up.

After while, the kid uncurled and moved to sit next to him, pressed flush with one of his arms wrapped around the kid’s shaking body. The kid nuzzled his shoulder slowly, sniffling loudly and he just let him.

“…I could only see her…” The kid whimpered, high pitch and just so… _weak_ “She used to… and that bitch was going too… I only saw her…”

He turned to kiss the top of the kid’s head, hugging him closer.

“No worries boss… you were just being a good guy saving the world from a fucker of a parent…” He said.

“…I killed her too…planet blowing up didn’t do that… she came to me one night demanding money. She was so angry. She started swinging and I had a knife and I just… the police called it self-defense… but I just wanted to fucking kill that cunt for all that she put me through,” The kid muttered “She just… I couldn’t let her…”

“Yeah kid… I know,” He said.


End file.
